Poppies
by laurelsofhecate
Summary: Poppy North visits her gravesite for the first time. Oneshot.


The headstone stood tall and grey, a symbol of a family's loss. It was a vertical rectangle, looming up above the earth and casting a heavy shadow upon the ground below. It was smooth and shiny; its corners were even and intact. It was new.

Black letters danced across its surface, outlining someone who once was. "Beloved daughter, sister, and friend."

There was nothing particularly special about the headstone. It was placed within a normal cemetery. It was plain. It wasn't an odd shape; it didn't have special engravings or pictures on it.

Around it, however, were dozens of flower arrangements. Ribbons entwined around fake flowers, fresh flowers, small stuffed animals and some CD cases. Paper notes protected from the weather in plastic bags. Electric candles. Small stones with bible verses and commemorative engravings.

Poppy North took the scene in as tears streamed down her face. This was a painful reminder of the life she had once lived for not only her grieving family, but herself as well. The headstone had been placed at her grave months ago, but she was not able to visit it right away. Such an event calls for many grave visitors. Poppy couldn't be seen by anyone, making her unable to visit.

She and James had driven by the day the stone was put in. She had begged him for a week. He reluctantly agreed, knowing that it was risky and that it would hurt Poppy. And hurt it did.

She got a glimpse of her friends and family as they held a small ceremony at Poppy's gravesite. James drove slowly, allowing her a good look. Her new vampire sight helped, too.

No one had been crying. They were smiling, looking affectionately at the headstone. They laughed and shared silly stories of Poppy. They placed the flowers, the candles, the CD cases. And then Poppy and James had to go.

 _I would've parked on the side of the road if I could have,_ Poppy heard in her mind. She didn't turn around. "I know," she whispered.

James took a few steps toward her. "Do you like it? It's plain, like you wanted."

Poppy eyed the stone once more. She hadn't wanted something flashy or costly. The stone didn't matter. It was the items placed around it that did.

"It's perfect, Jamie," she said.

He placed his arm around her. "Why did you want it so boring, anyway? That's not you."

"I guess I just didn't want my mom to have to think about it more than she had to. I didn't want her to sort through piles of pictures, choosing which one would look best on her daughter's tombstone. I didn't want her to have to think of some intricate saying to engrave. This way, she didn't have to think about it that much. I knew they'd decorate it beautifully, anyway."

"Well, kid," James said. "You were right to think that. Now, should we do what we came here to do or what?"

For the first time in a while, Poppy smiled. She kneeled on the ground as James handed her a shovel.

* * *

Mrs. North called through the house. "Phillip, will you come here please?"

Her son appeared a moment later. "Yeah, mom?"

"I went and saw Poppy today," she began. "There are poppies planted all over the gravesite, did you do that?"

Phil said no, and retreated back to his room. He left his door open so he could hear his mother call all of the other family members. She also called Poppy's friends. He knew who had planted them, and it wasn't anyone that she was calling. When his mother was done making calls, he went to her.

"I just don't understand," she said. "No one we know planted them. Maybe a stranger?"

"Or," Phil said, "Poppy is trying to tell you she's okay."

His mother thought about it. And then she went back to Poppy's grave.

* * *

Poppy and James sat at the edge of a thick layer of trees, laughing and talking. The forest hung over the edge of the cemetery.

Their attention was caught by a grey car slowly making its way down the gravel cemetery path. The car stopped at Poppy's grave, and a woman stepped out.

Poppy sat on her knees, leaning forward toward her grave. "Mom," she whispered.

Mrs. North went to Poppy's headstone, bringing with her a vase and a pair of scissors. Poppy listened hard.

"I have to admit I was confused when I got here this morning," Mrs. North said. "These flowers weren't here last night." She swallowed, hard. "Right after you left us, I had a dream that you were okay. It made me feel a lot better." Tears were dripping down her face. "When James told me that you wanted a plain headstone, I must admit I wasn't too fond of that idea. Why would I give my bright, energetic daughter something so drab? Then I realized that you must have wanted the process of picking a stone to be painless. It doesn't matter what the stone says, what matters is what's around it. The flowers, the CDs. All of the things that remind us of you. The things that come and go. The things that constantly change. The headstone is constant, but it's the decorations we choose that display our continuous love for you."

Poppy was crying, too. James held her, a silent reminder that Poppy couldn't leave to comfort her mother. She wanted to so badly.

"Well, Poppet," Mrs. North said. "I love you. I always have, and I always will. And I know that this is you letting me know you're okay, wherever you are. Our house is so dull without you. I brought this vase, so I could take some of these beautiful flowers you've left for me. So you can brighten up our house once again."

 _James,_ Poppy said urgently.

 _What is it, Poppy?_

 _We're going to keep doing this. We're going to make sure that there are always poppies here for her._

James smiled and hugged her tightly. _I wouldn't expect anything else._


End file.
